


Cathartic Carving

by ClayJackson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, But like....it's consensual...and about the Intimacy, Cas is gutting him like a deer that's the best I got, Castiel kills and heals him, Gore, Idk what to put except GRAPHIC descriptions of organs and blood and wounds, Intestines, Knives, M/M, Organs, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClayJackson/pseuds/ClayJackson
Summary: Dying several dozen times and going to hell for half of them fucks with your head. Things that had previously hurt enough to cause you to pass out hardly hurt now. Pain and crying didn't have the same catharsis as it used to.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Cathartic Carving

**Author's Note:**

> GORE!! THERE IS GORE HERE!! Castiel uses knives to cut Dean open and play with his guts! Very poor way of dealing with your trauma!! It's all consensual and no actual risk of permanent damage, but if you're someone who doesn't like blood and talking about Organs and Touching Organs and them spilling out then do NOT read!!

Dying several dozen times and going to hell for half of them fucks with your head. Things that had previously hurt enough to cause you to pass out hardly hurt now. Pain and crying didn't have the same catharsis as it used to. 

That's why Dean is strung up from the ceiling, arms bound tightly behind his back. The only thing he has on being a blindfold, blocking off most of his vision. He breathes slowly even as his heart pounds in his ears. The room is quiet, barren asides from a few tools and equipment to keep the mess down as much as possible. 

The sound of Castiel's footsteps around him keeps him focused on the moment, on what's happening right now. There isn't much room to think about everything with what's about to be done to him. Any thoughts are either too fast for him to grab onto or directly involved in the upcoming moments. 

Dean hears Castiel stop his circling towards his left, his ears straining for a hint at what he might be planning. He can hear the rustle of his jacket as the angel moved and the vague sound of something being picked up. Castiel resumed walking again, approaching Dean and causing the air around him to grow tense. 

"Dean," he said firmly. A hand touched Dean's face, thumb stroking along his cheek. "Do you still want to do this?" 

"Yes," he answered as he pressed into the touch, exhaling slowly. "Please, Cas?" 

There was a moment's pause before the sharp crack of Castile's hand against his face echoed in the bare room. Dean gasped, cheek burning gently as he turned his head back to face forward. The pain hummed softly on the surface of his skin for a moment before sinking into the background noise of his body simply existing. “You will tell me if it gets too much for you.” It’s an order, not a question. 

“Yes,” he answered again. 

Another hard slap on his face, then Castiel’s hand cradling his face again. “Good. I promise I will keep you safe,” he said. He didn’t have to. Dean knew that Castiel was able to control the whole scene, to be in charge of both of their bodies and whatever may happen to him. 

A charged minute settled around them before Castiel moved away, and Dean ached for his touch again. He didn’t have to wait long before he felt the slow and heavy pain drag itself down one of his ribs. A knife, meticulously sharpened to make it easier to carve into him, was what Castiel had chosen, at least for now. 

The pain on his rib seeped into him subtly. It wasn’t a serious deep cut, just enough to split the skin open and let a trickle of blood run down his side. Another slow cut on the rib below the previous one caused him to hiss through his teeth. A hundred lifetimes ago, the injury would be a cause of concern, might’ve had him gritting his teeth together in an attempt to push through it. Now, he relaxes into the gentle pulsating of the pain, pays attention to the feel of blood slowly rolling down his skin. 

Castiel dragged the dull side of the knife up Dean’s toros before angling the point to press into his shoulder. He pushed with a controlled firmness until the tip of the blade sunk behind the skin and into the muscles that rested under them. Dean groaned loudly as Castiel twisted the blade, slicing and tearing through tissue before he pulled it back out. The small hole tingled as nerves were exposed to the cold air and he sighed shakily. 

Every movement of the blade against his skin was meticulous and carefully controlled. Lighter cuts that just break the skin to tease, deeper ones that split his muscles open and cause blood to seep out. Dean’s unable to keep track of time as he falls into the rhythm of the movements, hisses, groans, and yelps breaking the silence in the room until his breath is shaky and tears are rolling down his face. 

There’s a pause in the cutting and stabbing that allows Dean to pant, sobs shaking his body and causing his split tissue to ache. He sinks into his body, any thoughts he could try to bring together slipping away as the pain becomes his main focus. It’s an awful, sickening feeling that sits in his gut, but it doesn’t compare to the pain that swirls through his bones and head at all other times. 

He hears Castiel step away and breathes heavily as he’s left alone with the pain. He can feel his own blood sticking against his skin in several places, the warm heat fading into a cold chill as it cools outside his body. Castiel stops by the table nearby again and Dean focuses on listening to him setting the knife down and picking something else up before the angel is approaching him again. 

The new blade sinks into Dean’s flesh cleanly, sharp and forceful. It pierces low on his abdomen, the curved tip angling itself upwards under his skin and muscle. It makes him let out a shaky groan, his body kicking into survival mode at what he knows comes next. Instinct tells him to fight, to work his way out from the rope that ties him up and escape. He pushes it down and focuses on the pain, sinking into it. 

Dean waits in tension for Castiel’s next movement and is caught off guard when he feels a hand pushing at the blindfold. It’s moved above his eyes and Dean squints at the light as it takes him a second to adjust. He stares at Castiel for a moment before looking down slowly at the knife that is buried an inch into him. It’s a bizarre feeling, to see something that any normal person would be terrified of, but to Dean it’s a solid pressure, an awful pain that he can relish in. 

Castiel moves smoothly as he pulls the knife up slowly, easily cutting through the layers of skin and muscle and fat. Dean simply lets out a yelp that dissolves into a groan as he watches, blood seeping out of the cut slowly and running down between his legs. The movement doesn’t stop as Castiel slides the knife up two inches, six inches, a foot. His other hand gently rests on the split he caused, holding the two halves of him together. Several more inches and Castiel hits the underside of his sternum. 

Dean screamed when the blade made contact with his bone. His breathing grew erratic as he watched the knife slide further and further up him, watching it cut him apart so easily. Blood was dripping from between his legs, or running down them to pool on the floor. It always surprised him how slowly it actually took for the blood to surface, and he was never sure if that was just how it was or if it was something Castiel was doing. 

Castiel rocked the blade back out of him, dragging along his sternum and making him sob as it shook his whole chest. The blade fell to the floor as Castiel let go of it in order to press his other hand to Dean’s center, using both of them to hold him together. 

The sight of Castiel’s hands being the only thing holding him together made Dean shake.

“Look at me,” Castiel said. 

Dean looked up at him, eyes wide and breathing erratic. Castiel stared at him with those bright blue eyes and Dean could feel himself relax, letting the pain and fear of being torn apart slip away. Castiel was the one doing this to him. He trusted him, knew that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. 

Castiel leaned forward and kissed him gently, the contrast between such a mundane act and the horror of having himself sliced up sending a chill through him. Castiel held his attention as he pulled back from the kiss, his thumbs rubbing gently against Dean’s skin where it was open. 

Dean swallowed heavily as he stared at Castiel, anticipating his next move. The angel moved his hands down Dean’s center, the touch growing lighter as he moved down further. The tissue of Dean’s torso couldn’t hold itself together without the external pressure and he could feel the cold air pressing into the cut. 

When Castiel moved his hands down below the cut, Dean could feel the shift in pressure inside of him. When Castiel looked down at his stomach, Dean did as well. 

They watched as Dean’s skin split open, unable to contain his insides without the structure. It wasn’t a massive landslide that you see in movies, it was more like a slow slippage. Insides were surprisingly good at keeping themselves inside, even when your gut was carved open. 

A portion of Dean’s guts pushed through the massive slit in his body, sliding out until Castiel cradled them in his hands. He let them spill out at their own pace, arranging his grip on them as they settled into a new position. 

It would’ve been more surreal for Dean to watch himself turn inside out if he hadn’t seen it happen many times before. Times like this are different though. He’s in control of it.  _ Castiel _ is in control of it. It wasn’t pain and torture for torture’s sake. It was a catharsis, a way for Dean to release the tension he carried with him and the sickening feeling that would settle inside of him. It was like pulling all his insides out and throwing them in the wash so they would be clean and soft and warm when he gathered them back up. 

Castiel cupped the slippery organs with one hand as the other pressed into the gap in his flesh, making Dean gasp and whimper. His hand moved slowly, tracing along his guts as he explored them. Fingers would run along the slick tissues, feeling along the bumps and ridges of his intestines. He would hold some of them gently in the palm of his hand for a moment, thumb stroking them the same way it had Dean’s face. 

It was strange how Castiel’s touch was cold inside of him. Dean never really thought about how hot the human body would get unless he was taking his temperature, and even then he didn’t think about what it would feel like. Having hands that had been on the outside suddenly exploring his insides sent a chill through him with every movement until they slowly warmed up from his own body heat. 

Castiel worked his way through his guts slowly, touching them with intent and purpose. It chased away the thick emptiness that Dean would feel. Each touch sent a spark through him and Dean felt himself slipping into the feeling of having Castiel be literally inside of him. His hand moved through him carefully, stroking organs here and gently pushing them out of the way as he pressed further into Dean. 

The pressure on Dean’s diaphragm made him twitch, attempting to suck in a gasp but being unable to. Castiel’s hand prevented his diaphragm from expanding and sucking air into his lungs. It was a bizarre feeling, having his airway clear and his lungs open but not being able to draw in any air. It made him dizzy as he wheezed, his body fighting to get air into his lungs. Castiel stared at him as he just traced his fingers firmly along the domed muscle, watching him closely. When Dean’s eyes started to flutter he pulled his hand back, allowing him to suck in a gasp of air and pant heavily. Castiel let him regain his breath as much as he could before pressing in further, elbow deep inside of Dean now. His hands pushed past his lungs gently, pausing to drag his fingers up the curves of them that made Dean whine. He continued further, reaching all the way up until he felt the hard movements of Dean’s heart. 

Dean felt dizzy from a lack of blood, lack of oxygen, the overwhelming sensation of having a holy being hold his literal heart in his hands. His brain was foggy, thoughts too much to form asides from being focused on Castiel and every small movement that happened. 

Castiel cupped his heart in the palm of his hand gently, feeling how it beat quickly in pain and panic. He looked at Dean, watching him pant as his eyes lost focused. Dean’s body was tired. The pain, the blood loss, the mental awareness to know that this is what he wanted. He was tired too, the room blurring whenever he blinked. 

A gentle increase of pressure on his heart made Dean draw in a pitiful breath. Castiel was squeezing slowly, Dean’s heart twitching against his hand in a valiant attempt to keep going. Dean’s vision blurred further as he stared ahead at Castiel, mouth parted as he wheezed in what little oxygen he could. “Cas…” he hardly said. 

“I have you, Dean. Just relax.” Castiel’s voice was calm as ever, sending a wave of calmness through Dean’s body. The whole room was twisting around on itself as Dean tried to hold himself together, keeping his focus on Castiel. “Let go. I have you. I’m right here.”

Castiel’s words filtered through Dean’s ears like they were honey. Dean’s eyelids fluttered as he listened to the angel. He let out a tiny breath as he shut his eyes, everything washing away except for the slowed twitches of his heart struggling to beat from inside Castiel’s hands. 

Dean came back to in bed, mind still hazy. He rolled his head with a soft groan, sensations returning to him. Castiel was touching him, stroking a hand up and down his chest slowly, another one in his hair. 

“I have you, Dean,” he heard Castiel say distantly. “You’re safe. I healed you. You’re laying down in bed. I’m here.” His voice reassured Dean, allowing him to keep floating in the foggy in between where his mind was. 

“Cas,” he mumbled, mouth and tongue struggling to function. 

“Shh,” Castiel said as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Just relax, I’m here. There’s no need to talk.” 

Dean groaned, grasping at the wisps of thought he was trying to collect. “Thanks,” he managed to gasp out before the words evaded his grasp again. 

Castiel kissed him again, hushing him. “You’re welcome. Now just relax, Dean. Get some sleep. We can debrief when you wake up in a better state.”

He wanted to fight against Castiel’s words but he was too tired. Every muscle in his body was lax and he wasn’t able to think of anything except the steady movement of Castiel’s hands on him before he drifted away again. 


End file.
